..And like an Ode to vain ideals
She will be gone 'till morning light,
Melted in Pleasure, Passion and Delight,
The distant scent of parfume:
She's no longer here...

Winged memories, so vivid once
Beneath the cloak of Time,
Black lipsick on burnt cigarette,
And empty bottle of red wine.

The Banshee cried, and so did I,
My vanity could never show regret
The broken promices-
Her lie reflected mine
I feed the fire with poems ,which are never to be read.